A Passing Shadow
by Vanille Strawberry
Summary: Molly is no one, nothing. She's just one of the numerous Weasley kids in the family. Just a passing shadow. Post war. Second Generation.


**Disclaimer: I don't own HP**

A/N: Friday. Went to the Gym. Went to the chippers, guilt free. Watched the Late Late Toy Show (Evanna Lynch was a guest!) Finished writing my song. Read a chapter of a novel I borrowed. Oh, and finished writing this. How 'bout that, ay?

* * *

-A Passing Shadow-

-

-

-

Molly isn't brash or boastful. She does not scream over the other childish voices during arguments, nor does she blame things on her siblings, or pretend that there aren't chores to be done around the house. Fred thinks she is weird. Roxanne only thinks she is shy. And Victoire has too many things going on to be bothered with her.

No one's ever bothered with Molly. She's just another Weasley child. Another of the large bunch that makes up the chaotic family and that will never change. She is one of so many others who have such exceptional talents. Why should they bother with her?

She likes to think of herself as a shadow. Flitting through cracks, undetected and silent as she moves through the murky world. Or maybe a speck of dust. Molly has always rather liked dust. She leaves a light coating of it on her moneybox. She doesn't know why, it's just something she has always done. Or maybe she is an owl with large yellow eyes, watching, waiting and free to spread her wings. But not fly-- not yet, because she is still inside her cage.

Every Sunday afternoon she likes to sit outside by the Hogwarts lake. She does not do anything in particular. She might count how many ripples a stone makes when she throws it, or she might take a nap on the cobblestone beach, listening to the waves and feeling the sun on her face. She loves nature. She loves life.

Dominique is her best friend. They have virtually nothing in common apart from being in the same family. Dominique is loud and hot headed with a tomboyish streak and large blue eyes with heavenly blonde locks that girls would die for. Molly is shy, meek and a coward as well as being small and red-haired, with uninteresting brown eyes that look like muddy pools. James had told her it was stupid to have your cousin as your best friend but Molly has never seen anything wrong with it. She and Dominique are inseparable.

She has a younger sister, Lucy. The most energetic, hyperactive and loudmouthed child that has ever walked the face of the earth. Lucy who took special pleasure in introducing her big sister to all her new friends in first year. Which was embarrassing for Molly because she has a slight fear of meeting people for the first time. What if they didn't like her? What if they thought she was weird? However, she loves Lucy despite her tormenting. She would die for Lucy if it came down to it. Her sister is her pride and joy, and people always recoil whenever she tells them.

Molly is like a bleak wall. No one knows it is there. Even her House in disinteresting. Hufflepuff. Where dwell the righteous and true. She likes her House though. She thinks it captures her essence. That she would fight for the just and the right; that she would always help if called.

And no one knows she gets lonely at night and cries at the window, wishing for home. She told her Head of House, Professor Woodlock about it when the pain became too much to bear. The young woman asked her if there was anything that she could do that would make her feel more at home. The following evening the House Elves had set up the piano from home in Molly's dormitory. Sometimes her roommates mess around on it and Molly lets them. And when she finds herself longing again she settles at her piano and plays quietly. She makes sure not to disrupt anyone as they sleep and whispers a lullaby on the keys that she used to play for Lilly and Lucy when they were all younger.

It haunts her. The lullaby, the sadness, the lake and sun, life, nature, friends and fear. The fear of being invisible. Of not being heard. Of disappearing every time she blinked and of people forgetting her. On the other hand, maybe she was afraid of being a shadow. For once Molly yearned to be solid and present. Loud and brash and heard and maybe deep inside herself she would like to be brave-- Gryffindor brave.

Only those who take the time to look at her see the fire and potential in her eyes. Or hear her lullaby. But that's okay. Why would they bother?

* * *

A/N: I don't know why I wrote this. Lately I've just been feeling like I could disappear at any moment, like my life could and will end at any second. Like a big chunk of me has been ripped out and I can't find who I used to be without that chunk. It's like I'm falling. I wanted a Weasley to be that little girl everyone kind of knows exists but sometimes forgets. And even though she's extraordinary and amazing if they took the time to look at her, she's going through a tough time because she doesn't believe she's special or gifted.


End file.
